


Prison Plane Proteus

by bekeleven



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Captivity, Drama, Gen, Magic, Organized Crime, Prison, Psychological Trauma, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bekeleven/pseuds/bekeleven
Summary: The guards are in a panic, and the prisoners can only catch rumors as to why. They say the clocktower started ticking, counting down. The warden's coming back for an inspection.It's been centuries since the last, but Proteus is running itself as well as it ever has. The guards organize society and keep their prisoners in line. The prisoners tend crops, manufacture goods, and mend cells. Proteus's oldest elves weren't yet born during the last inspection, but the legends from back then are grim. The warden doesn’t take well to imperfection.The only person happy about the frenzy is a mysterious elf named Ilaria. So mysterious that she doesn't appear in any of Proteus's painstaking prisoner manifests.Nobody, prisoner or guard, has ever left Proteus. Now, on the eve of the entire microcivilization achieving its purpose, somebody new arrived.Ilaria’s mission is simple: Destroy the prison. Kill the warden.
Kudos: 1





	1. Me and Myself

Donato woke at six eleven, it was six eleven when he woke. There was less sunlight coming in through the pinprick hole above his bed, but that was what people referred to as _seasons_. Still six eleven.

Somebody was in his cell.

He bolted upright. “Hello?” He heard footsteps walking to his door. Who could it be?

The guards had slid his morning meal under the slat while he’d slept. They did that every morning, too, at six ten. Had to be, since it was there at six eleven, and six ten was before six eleven.

He heard someone’s footsteps again before sitting down to eat. The porridge felt cold, although it was the same temperature as every day. Wait, no. Seasons. That explained the cold.

Back to work! Donato turned to the wall and began to scratch in some new figures.

_Seasons._ Where did they fit in? Legends said there were four. Four limbs on a human, but twenty digits. He’d spoken twenty words in the past five days. Five shafts of light when the torchlight flickered through the bars in the cell window. It worked because there were four bars. _Of course._

So many calculations. So much left to do. The latest coat of numbers wasn’t even halfway around the room yet. Donato took great care not to mess anything up as he summed the latest year’s column.

“Nineteen days, six—” came a voice.

Donato started at the sound. “Who’s there?” the voice asked.

He looked around. The cell was empty. Empty, of course, except for Donato. Himself. He began to laugh. _Still me. Always still me._

Back to work. “Nineteen days,” he calculated. “Six hours. Forty three minutes, and twelve seconds.”

“Until what?” came a voice. His voice, of course, because he was the only person here.

“I don’t know,” he told himself. “Until something big. Something significant. I’ll have to do more sums.”

“Well, that’s not very useful,” his voice said. “Do you know the way to Block B? I’m all turned around.”

“No I’m not,” Donato answered. “I’m right here. Always right here. Always working. So much more to do.”

“This is a waste of time,” Donato declared. “I’ll find somebody else.”

“But don’t you see?” Donato turned around to look himself in the eyes. “There is nobody else!”

Donato was able to look himself in the eyes because he had grown a second body, the body of an elven woman dressed in leathers. Briefly Donato considered that this could be a second person, but he was still alone in his cell, so the math didn’t add up. He did, however, have to spin during the process, which meant that he _was_ all turned around. So he was still correct, mostly, except about the waste of time thing. What else would he be doing?

He got back to work. Two bodies, two races, two genders. Subtract seven... no, eight inches of height. Add six point two eight for the circle that he spun, no, subtract that too because he spun to the right. How many words had it been? No, that wasn’t right. Twenty three scoops of porridge. Yes. It was all coming together.

“Nineteen days, six hours, thirty six minutes, and eleven seconds.”

Donato turned around. His second part was gone, which meant he’d need to recalculate right away. All he saw was walls filled with writing, and a bed, and an open door.


	2. Mister Renato

_ Subhuman. _

Renato looked the goblin up and down.  _ And given where humans rank, that really means something. _ “I’m told you’ve missed a shipment.”

“The guards are getting cautious.” the goblin whined. “They’re much harder to catch unawares. But, since this was the last shipment, I was hoping that in the interest of goodwill moving forwards...” The goblin’s eyes tracked around the room, across Renato’s attendants, from the ones paying him close attention to the other ones pretending not to.

“...I could have a small extension, to put us all on the right footing to negotiate my next contract.”

Renato sighed. “Goblin, what is your name?”

_ Call me Sir. Call me Master. Call me Lord. Oh, please do. _

“Marco, Mister Renato.” He looked so out of place among Renato’s fine furnishings. Even if it  _ was _ still technically a cell.

_ Damn. _ Goblin limbs were nice and thin. They had strength, for their size, but still pulled apart like any other. “Marco, why do you think the guards keep me around?”

“...I’m not sure how to answer you.”

“Do you think the guards only take in people they can prove break the rules? Look around you. Why is my station not evidence enough for the red man?” There was wealth to have in prison, and Renato was the man to have it. The cell where they held meetings wasn’t even his only one.

“You’re... too powerful?”

Renato smiled. “I was once...”  _ Well, not as small as  _ you _. _ “An upstart as well. But I’ll be here long after your grandchildren have died in cells of their own. Goblin, I do something that all of those guards couldn’t. How many deaths were there in all of Block C last month?”

“Uh... five? No, six. Fulvia had that caugh, and she—”

“None,” Renato interrupted. “Except those that I desired. I bring stability here. And to the other blocks, too. As long as I’m here, there’s no trouble for the guards to clean up.”

The goblin kept silent, perhaps seeing where things were going. “In the interest of goodwill, goblin, you will have another week to deliver this sword. And for interest, a second sword. Does that sound fair?”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yes... Renato.”

“Excellent.” Renato reached a gloved hand down to the goblin’s shoulders and gave him a pat. “It would be a shame if such a strong business relationship became unstable.”

Renato called for wine while an enforcer led the creature out. He’d had far too little good news of late. Almost none since that harlot the other year. He still had the scar running up his ear, all the way to the tip.

He barely had time for a glass before one of his uglier whipspines interrupted him. “Renato,” she began, kneeling. “News from block A.”

“Send it in, then.” It seemed that peace and quiet was off the table, so might as well get it over with.

The ogre nodded curtly, her ponytail snapping against her back like one of their whips. Then she stood and nodded to the door, where another whipspine let in a fearful human man. He was dressed like the common urchin from any block.

Not just subelf, this one was sub-most humans, too _. _ The man, or boy maybe, stopped in front of Renato’s chair and knelt, aping the whipspine’s previous pose. His eyes met Renato’s, and he looked away when he saw the sneer.

“Out with it, then.”

“Yes, I... I am quiet, and the guards pay me no mind, and I was in block B, I mean, we all are but I live over in B2 and I was in a side passage and I heard some — ”

“Heard what?” Renato had no time for this.

The human jumped. “The Warden! He’s visiting. First day next month, full inspection. The guards are in a panic.”

Now  _ this _ could be interesting. Important information was valuable information. The warden? Renato had only heard of previous inspections secondhand. If he truly took that long on his... vacations, he was truly something long-lived. Could even be an elf. At the very least, not subelf.

The guards would be scurrying to fix every little problem that accumulated over their last few lifetimes. What would that mean? Was Renato a useful tool to them, or would they decide he was a problem, himself?

_ This makes everything complicated. _ First order of business was to keep things from getting out: No telling what inadvisable actions others might contemplate from hearing news like this. Renato mimed a shutting door to his perimeter enforcer. “Who else have you told?”

“Nobody, my lord.”

Renato took a breath, closed his eyes, and then exhaled it over a ten-count. He could be reasonable when his survival was on the line. He could adapt to this new circumstance.

He opened his eyes to find everybody in the room staring. Renato flashed a smile to reassure his people, then got back to work. “What else did you hear?”

“Well, they were going to open block D, F, all of them. Going to try and clean them before he arrives. And they were saying something about a creature in the greenhouse.”

_ That  _ old rumor. “What else? What will the warden look for?” Down the hall came the echoes of a door closing. His enforcers, sealing the wing.

“That’s all, Master Renato. They didn’t go into detail about —”

Renato’s palm took him the chest, and the man shot straight back and into the cell bars, where his broken body slumped into the indentation from the impact.

The human moaned. His body hadn’t yet caught up to the fact that his chest was crushed, and attempted to continue living. Renato rose from his seat and strode closer while his enforcers and attendants averted their eyes.

“Lord? Master?!” Renato uppercut the man’s chin, sending his head spinning between the warped bars and into the hall.

“DO. I. LOOK. LIKE. A. GUARD?”


	3. Edge and Blade

She danced through meadows of green and gold, waves of grain opening to accept her. The sun, overhead, shone like a lamp: Bright and yellow.

Or was it white? Bright blue? Compared to lamps... Was there supposed to be a moon?

Alessandra awoke with a start.

She found herself sitting in her chair, cheek resting against her table. A panicked check confirmed that she hadn’t drooled onto any of the books surrounding her head, and the two-inch lightwell above suggested it was around midday. The light  _ was _ blue. But maybe it was because she was used to lamps...

“Is that a no?” came a voice.

“Sorry?” Alessandra looked around. In the doorway to her cell stood a silhouette. It was open, of course, at midday.

“I said, can you show me to block C?”

Who was this stranger, who talked of moving between blocks so easily? Furthermore, who was this stranger at all? She clearly wasn’t a guard, and Alessandra knew most everyone in the block, the mobile ones, at least by sight. What was that in her forehead?

Was she some sort of guard plant, here to test her somehow? It wasn’t a tactic that they’d normally used, but since the red man, anything seemed possible.

“Please leave me alone,” Alessandra told her. “I need to do... chores.” On the table near the door lay two plates. She picked one up and scurried past the woman. Were those elf ears? It had been years since she’d seen...

Not since she’d seen a dagger, though. Guards had those on their hips every day. But those ones hadn’t been so shiny, or drawn, or pointed at her.

“I need to feed Donato,” Alessandra told the blade, stepping backwards. “He’s in solitary.”

The blade flourished and spun through the elf’s hands for a moment until Alessandra's gaze followed it back into a sheath. “Go to him,” the elf ordered. “I’ll wait.”

The path down the wing wasn’t long, not when you had nowhere else to be. But Alessandra found herself timing each footstep as she scampered down the hall. The path  _ had _ to be too long, or else why would the guards make her deliver food thrice a day?

_ Let _ her. Not make her, let her. Because she wanted to be out of her cell. It was an arrangement that made everybody happy.

At the end of the hall, past rows of doors to empty cells, was an open door to an empty cell.

“Donato?” Alessandra shouted. Where could... what did this mean? Was he taken away? Where could he have gone? Would the guards say she had no more duties and keep her cell locked all day again?

Had the red man taken him? Had he escaped?

“He’s a funny one,” came a voice from behind. Alessandra jumped. She hadn’t realized the elf was following.

“You!” Alessandra took a step towards the woman, then stopped. There were more sheaths on her belt than Alessandra had realized. “Uh... where is Donato?” Was that a gem in her forehead? Not all elves had that, right?

The elf raised her hands at her sides and composed a face of perfect innocence.

“You’re not from here.” Alessandra was trying to put things together. There was a lot of information that didn’t make sense.

“If I were, would I need your help to find my way out?”

_ My help can’t even get  _ me _ out. _ “Take me with you.” Donato. “Us.”

The elf snorted. Alessandra didn’t know many elves, or actually any elves, but snorting didn’t seem like a very elfly gesture. “You wouldn’t last a day in block C.”

She just meant to enter High-Risk and  _ stay there? _ “You’re not leaving?” The elf was insane.

“Why would I come just to leave again?”

_ Definitely _ insane. “Why come at all?” Not all elves were, Alessandra decided. She’d heard of some very sane ones in block B. But all of the ones that broke into prisons and stuck gemstones into their foreheads, yes, those were the insane ones. It shone and sparkled, despite the dim light.

“If things go well, you won’t have to worry about being locked up here much longer,” the elf told her. “Block C. Let’s go.”

What was her plan? Was she going to ask the guards for release? No, that couldn’t work. The red man... 

Enough talking in circles. “First, tell me what you mean.”

The elf drew her dagger,  _ one _ of her daggers, and took a step forwards.

“One man built this prison,” she said. “In three weeks he will be dead, and we’ll be even.”

“...We?” asked Alessandra.

“Yes, us too.” The elf spun the knife in her hand and thrust it, hilt-first, towards Alessandra.

Alessandra took the knife and pointed with it. “It’s that way, but we’ll have to go through two guard checkpoints to reach the thoroughfare.”  _ Is this for me? What will I even do with it? _

“Walk me to the first one. And maybe tuck that away somewhere.” The elf was right. Few were ever about in block E; most of the prisoners were in solitary or under watch to prevent self-harm. There were a few people like Alessandra who had been born here, and a few guards to watch over them, but there wasn’t a single person she’d want to kill, or a person she’d trust to know she had weapons.

Alessandra held the dagger by her side, in the folds of her dress. It would have to suffice for now. “So, for me, for us. When you kill the head of the prison, you think the guards—”

“I won’t tell you. You’d spill in 5 minutes of... You know what, hold on.” The elf grabbed Alessandra’s shoulder and she stopped. Then the gem in the elf’s forehead started to glow, and Alessandra blinked. It glowed brighter and brighter, until the light seared through her body, light of the moon, of the stars, never stopping, tearing up— 

And then it stopped, and Alessandra was standing in the prison hallway, held upright by an elf, blinking spots out of her eyes.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The elf’s tone was light and conversational, like she hadn’t just pierced through someone else’s soul. “Now I trust you, if you don’t scream so loud again. That tends to be a  _ bad _ idea in prison, if you haven’t heard. I’m Ilaria.”

“What did...” Alessandra’s mouth formed the words, if slowly. “...Was that?”

“I  _ trust _ you now.” Ilaria spoke like Alessandra was a child. Maybe it was an elf thing, but Alessandra was beginning to suspect not. “What do you want to know?”

That Ilaria seemed determined to downplay her magic could be an indication that she felt bad about it and wanted to move on. The alternative, that she didn’t see the pain she inflicted as worthy of note, was much worse. “I... what will you do?”

Ilaria handed Alessandra a dagger. The same one; she’d dropped it. “I’m going to bring this whole prison down on the guard’s heads. You’ll probably survive. Were we going somewhere?”

“Oh, it’s just down here. Third right.” Alessandra didn’t want to take too many steps just yet.

Ilaria nodded and took a few steps. Was her gem dimmer? “Before I go,” she added. “Do you want to know where Donato went, or would you prefer someone else find him?”


	4. Three Hours Early

The gaoler turned the key and the door swung open with a screech. These ones didn't get much use.

 _And I will be on the other side of them._ Niccolo stood up and straightened his collar. _As I should be._

"Captain wants to see you." The gaoler's voice was monotone, bored. He didn't move.

Niccolo brushed off some stray dust and strode past the man. Walking with purpose was one of the simplest ways for a guard to demonstrate exception. All guard captains started their careers with _intention_. The gaoler slouched and shuffled his feet when he walked.

Of course, the gaoler had obeyed a much simpler rule: Future guard captains didn't get arrested and thrown into the brig.

Rules always seemed simple until Niccolo broke them.

The captain's office was nearly on the opposite side of the block, which made sense. Why would she want to be near the criminals, the rejects, and the failures? The scum of block A. The guards that didn't make it. _Because sometimes, people like me are there with them._ Niccolo had enjoyed his visitors during the previous months, but none had been of higher rank.

The captain's doorman indicated the door to the left for a change, so Niccolo stepped inside and stood at the edge of the mat in the center of the room. He held his hands behind him, at parade rest. A strange name. It must have some connection with the parades he'd read about. "Where do you need me?"

Captain Lia was doing some jumping jacks. "Do you need to stretch?"

"No, captain. Where am I assigned?"

"On the mat then. What makes you think I need you?"

Niccolo stepped towards her. He much preferred the stoic bookworm he found behind the door to the right, in a stuffy office that remained a few shades too dark all day. This energetic bruiser was the one that got him into this mess in the first place.

He placed his left foot forward and held two fists up, around neck level. The captain slid her left foot away and sunk into a wide stance, leading on her right palm, her other hand chambered underneath her armpit.

"My term was for six months, captain." Best not to instigate. He might be able to finish the meeting before she struck.

"Yes, I do recall locking you up that long ago." She bobbed back and forth on the balls of her feet, threatening to move in.

"Captain, I—" And then she did.

She bounced into range and threw a fist, but it was a feint. Pivoting around her front leg, she brought her other in for a sweep. Niccolo had to roll to the side to avoid falling off the mat, and he righted himself far too slowly.

The captain stayed stationary, one eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you don't need to stretch?"

 _No._ "Captain, I was sentenced in the afternoon."

She looked up at the noon sun carving a shaft of light down from the lightwell.

Then she jumped forward and punched. Niccolo took the hit on a forearm and grabbed her wrist with his other. He turned his body to throw her over his knee to the ground, taking a second punch on his back. _I'll feel that in an hour._

The captain wrapped her legs around his, pulling him down on top of her, then rolled from under him and bent his arm back into a bar.

"The clocktower started ticking this morning." She stood and yanked his hand up, pressing his face into the mat. "You're of no use to me in that cell."

 _I'm of no use to you with my arm broken, either._ Niccolo lifted his body from the mat and pivoted past his arm, pulling it in. It probably wouldn't have worked in a real fight, but the captain wanted to spar, not injure: She hadn't used much weight. She lost her grip and he pulled both hands in to protect his face from incoming kicks. "How long do we have?"

"Nineteen days." The captain looked down at his face, on the floor between her feet. "And I'm so desperate that I'm willing to write off your indiscretions."

"I did the right thing," Niccolo insisted, cowering beneath his fists.

The captain sighed and blew an unruly lock of brown hair from her eyes. "I'm going to kick your head now."

"We're not -" Niccolo brought his forearms together, catching the captain's foot as it fell and guiding it to the mat next to his head. She stumbled away to recover, letting Niccolo roll to his feet. "We're not better than them, Captain."

"Some things are always true." She prowled around the mat, looking for weakness. Niccolo turned to face her as she moved. "Guards maintain order. Prisoners stay in line. Nobody leaves Proteus."

"A lot of rare things seem impossible." Niccolo advanced when the captain's circling brought her close to a corner. "The warden's visits are pretty rare too, wouldn't you say?"

"Guardsman, if you think an inspection in two weeks is going to make me _more_ lenient, prepare to be sad."

Niccolo led with a left hook, right hand up to block the inevitable counterpunch. Instead, the captain ducked under his fist and kicked his stomach. They were too close for her to build up power to the blow, and she just offered Niccolo a limb.

The captain pulled her leg out from his attempted grab, pulling it close to build up speed as she spun around. The resulting slap in his face knocked Niccolo to the ground.

"I overlooked your indiscretions as long as you didn't press the issue." Lia's face appeared above his head. "Don't press it again until this is over with and we'll talk after. Agreed?"

Niccolo rubbed his cheek with his hand. Stars, it smarted! Then he accepted her hand and let Lia lift him to his feet.

"So." Niccolo paused and worked his jaw a few times to feel what worked. The damage didn't seem too bad. "We can make prisoners guards."

"I _said_ , we'll talk." Lia walked off the mat to her supplies and tossed him one of her towels. It hadn't taken long for him to start sweating. "All of society isn't going to collapse on my watch, but if you can help me pull this off without a hitch, maybe we can make one or... one secret exception."

"Look on the bright side." Niccolo smiled, then quickly corrected his mistake. Stars! "If all of Proteus falls apart the day after the Warden leaves, he won't come back and find out until we've both been dead two or three hundred years.

"And you'll have made two people very happy."

Rules. Rules were always simple on the page.

Lia glared, then buried her face in her other towel.


	5. Everyone and One

“And what’s he got that you don’t got?”

“Exactly.” Savio nodded, then gulped a few mouthfuls of ale. “‘Cept a good long rest in the brig. I’ve been out here keeping you lot in line for years on end. Know the place in and out. He’s been here one day, not even, and the captain appoints him head of the whole  _ block _ .”

“Sounds unfair.” With his foot, Marco pushed the bag further under the table. Slowly, so Savio wouldn’t hear. But no need to go  _ too _ slow, because Savio was human. “I’ve never seen Captain Lia around. Maybe she doesn’t get out here enough to see what you do.”

“Must be it,” agreed the portly guard. “Or politics. Never could stand those. Good work should be rewarded.”

Prisoners were given a much different saying:  _ Work is its own reward. _ Marco liked the version the guards told themselves better. “Or maybe she has another reason for choosing him.” Marco didn’t know Savio’s captain, but he needed the man excited. He’d pushed his bag far enough. He flailed with his leg to snag the handle of the one resting next to it.

He kicked something that felt suspiciously like a knee.

“Wha...” Savio looked down at the table.

“So,” Marco shouted  _ far too loudly, whoops. _ “What’s Niccolo like?” 

Savio looked at his face, considering.  _ Answer me. Don’t look under the table. Answer me.  _ Marco should’ve kept speaking, kept spinning, but his breath caught in his throat.

The guard relaxed. Apparently complaining was more important. “He’s soft. went in for fraternizing. you’d like him.” The guard flashed a toothy smile, apparently not realizing that what they were doing could also be called  _ fraternizing. _ “Why the captain thought  _ that’s _ the best man to knock block C into shape... Seems like the  _ worst _ one to me. Warden’s on his way, we need to keep you lot in line.”

“Sav?” came a voice from the hall. Maybe Vico. He usually shared Savio’s shifts.

“Ah, stars.” Savio turned to the door. “Coming!”

Marco swung his foot under the table and snagged  _ something _ . As Savio pushed his chair back, Marco used the sound and yanked whichever bag he’d snagged under his chair.

Then Savio stood up and downed the rest of his mug. “Alright, Marco. Another time.” He grabbed the bag still by his feet and walked from the cell.

Marco released his breath. The bag in Savio’s arms had been his. He’d done it. Oh, there would be repercussions. Even if Savio didn’t report him - And he would look terrible to his superiors if he did so - a guard could make an inmate’s life worse in plenty of ways. Marco could try to wipe his identity, maybe smuggle himself into another block... But the whole point of this was to get  _ out _ of debt with Renato. Who knows what the elf would demand for a new name?

Marco opened the bag. Inside, giving it weight, was a rock.  _ How- _

“That was close,” came another voice from the hall. “You almost earned yourself a visit with the red man.” A woman’s voice, one he didn’t recognize. And Marco knew  _ everyone. _

“I hear you know everyone.” The woman revealed herself in the doorway: An elf, light-skinned, with a sparkling gem in the center of her forehead. Attractive, in much the same way as staring off a cliff. “I’m going to need your services, and you getting tortured to death would do me no good at all.” She wore leathers that split the difference between protection and accentuation, and had a preponderance of sheathes running around her body.

“Did you swap Savio’s bag?” And who are you, Marco refrained from asking?

“And yours. He still has his swords.” The elf nodded, like it was the most natural thing. “Oh, but you wanted one, right?”

She reached behind her back. Marco had just enough time to duck under the table before a  _ thunk _ shook it. Peeking his head back up, he found a sword embedded tip-first into the wood in the table’s center.

Maintaining eye contact, Marco reached slowly for its handle. When his hand passed within a few inches he felt it heat up. He stopped.

“Oh, right.” The elf waved her hand, and the gem in her forehead sparkled. “All yours.”

Marco frowned. It took him  _ hours _ to disenchant guard swords. But after reaching out once more, he found he could hold the hilt without it burning. A trick of some kind, most likely. “You don’t seem like the type to need my help. Who  _ are _ you?”

The elf smiled. “I can do anything, and you know everyone. So you’re exactly the goblin I need.”

Her weapons indicated that she wasn’t afraid of guards. Either she was one herself, or she was too powerful to bother. But she wasn’t so secure in her power as to  _ not _ carry any weapons. Did she need them to fight, or were they only there to make a statement?

There were too many questions. Too many impossibilities. She could even be using some sort of disguise magic, but he’d never seen any look so flawless. Most could fool humans at best.

Plus, it couldn’t be  _ all _ posturing, because she felt fine arming him.

She had confidence, and she had powers, but Marco didn’t know her. More important, she didn’t know anybody. She was new here.

She  _ came _ from somewhere. Marco wouldn’t need Renato after all.

“Aah.” Marco pointed at her with his free hand. “But I  _ don’t _ know everyone, because I don’t know you. So, tell me who you are, I’ll keep the reputation you need, and we’ll be partners.”

The elf froze for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine, Marco. Call me Ilaria.” She reached behind her back again and pulled out another sword. Did she have more sheathes that he couldn’t see? All the ones on her front held daggers. “I was going to give you the second one after employing you, but if we’re partners, that hardly seems necessary.” She walked up to the table and placed the second sword next to the hole the first had bitten into the wood. “Can’t have my partner in debt to anybody.” She waved her hand and the gem sparkled again.

“How are you holding those swords without disenchanting them?” Marco wasn’t sure if he wanted to catch this woman in a lie or not.

“I  _ told _ you.” Ilaria spoke slowly, as if to a child. “I can do anything. You’ll have to understand that if we’re partners. Now, partner, you’re square with Renato. Care to help me find a few items I...” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, although thankfully less literally than the jewel. “...A few items  _ we _ need to bring this place down?”


	6. In or Out

18 Days Remain

The duty guard plodded down the hall. At each cell he stopped, evaluating. Some he unlocked. Others, he kept walking.

Lucinda watched him pass Terzo’s cell without even breaking stride. No surprise there, Terzo ended up in block C after his brawling had led to a death or two. He didn’t get much time with others.

The rest of the cells Lucinda found much harder to predict. Each guard had their own preferences, although  _ whims _ might be a better word. And no guard was consistent, at least not as far as she could tell. They always had a reason to open: It was in one of their books somewhere that they were supposed to keep the prisoners happy. On the other hand, there was another rule in an even more important book that said everyone in block C had done  _ something _ to get there. 

She stepped back from the bars as he approached. Would it be better if the guard opened her door, or not?

In the long term, on a large scale, a few months - or even weeks - without leaving their cells would be a clear demonstration to the other prisoners. But in the short term, Lucinda herself would do better let out. She couldn’t just demonstrate by example. She had to make them prepare.

Lucinda had a deadline to keep.

And she’d be able to keep it, because the guard unlocked her cell. Then he walked through the door at the end of the hall, locked it, and pressed the button to release the unlocked door’s latches.

_ Or at least, if I don’t keep it, it will be on my head. _

She started immediately. A hushed word in one cell, a significant glance to a colleague. This part, she’d learned to do. She’d made herself mysterious, connected, just out of reach. The other prisoners would want to hear her out. And she didn’t have to worry too hard about rats, not after the last block C snitch had ended up knocking on the red man’s door along with his conspirators.

The group congregated not-too-subtly into a cell at the end of the block, Mafalda staying in the hallway as the sentry. She was Renato’s, but only on duty: No Whipspine was truly tamed. And she wanted the same things as Lucinda, more or less.

That gave Lucinda room to breathe and survey her potential recruits. “How have the guards been acting lately?”

“Jumpy,” answered Tore. “Since yesterday or so.”

“And short with us,” added another voice. One of the newer transfers.

Lucinda nodded. “The Warden’s coming down for an inspection next month. Anyone know where he’s been the last four, five hundred years?”

A few prisoners shook their heads, so she pressed. “No? Wasn’t in block B with gen pop? Not treading water behind the barrier in block D?”

“He wasn’t here,” Eustorgio cut her off.

“Right.” Lucinda couldn’t have stopped the smile creeping over her face if she’d wanted to. “So somebody outside... is coming here. Outside of Proteus.”

“And you think there’s a door,” interrupted Eustorgio again.

“You don’t?”

Lucinda knew it was the wrong thing as soon as she said it. She could lead her audience along, but getting snippy wouldn’t win them over. “I mean, if there’s not... What are we here for?”

She’d tried not to grab the apathetic, which seemed easy in a block like C. But apparently her analysis had been incomplete, because Pietronella had an answer: “This ain’t so bad. Food’s better than B.”

“It’s not.” Tore rolled his eyes.

“Food I eat beats food I can’t. Nobody here steals my food.” Pietronella was in C for killing two men, but that was before Lucinda’s time. Pietronella was old, for a human.

“Well, those that  _ do _ want out...” Lucinda took a breath. “I can’t guarantee your safety. I can’t guarantee a lot. But we do have ways of learning more, and we have some supplies stocked up. If you want to be a part, stick around.”

The room rose to their feet in near unison. The only people left sitting were Tore, Imelda, and a man she didn’t know very well. Seeing the others filing out, Imelda bit her lip and cast a Lucinda a sidelong glance.

Three recruits. Plus the few she’d already convinced. That took all brute-force strategies off the table. It also made it harder to gather the information to plan a more subtle strategy. Damn. Damn damn damn. She’d thought... But these people were born prisoners. They didn’t know how to dream of freedom. 

Mafalda leaned into the doorway. “Guard’s making his way... Where’s everyone going?”

The crowd stopped for just a moment before shifting and streaming out around her. The look hadn’t changed, but now they were whispering. Lucinda heard the word “whipspine” from multiple mouths.

That wasn’t how she planned to conduct her business. But if she needed the endorsement of Mafalda, Whipspine Enforcer, to get her credibility... Well, Lucinda would live with that. She had a deadline to keep. And something to prove..

And quite frankly, Lucinda  _ wanted _ to use force.


	7. Even

There were two Whipspines at the door with the host. That was a bit unusual, but not unheard of, and the recent tension in the blocks was explanation enough. But behind the twin ogresses was Bettino, an eternally prissy elf in Renato’s inner circle. Normally the duty host was the only elf taking the visitors. Any other elves nearby would be inside with the boss himself, enjoying luxuries even guards could only dream about.

Marco gave his name and after about an hour of waiting, with the host popping in and out of doors periodically, he finally gave the signal. One of the Whipspines - Giuliana, possibly? - took his merchandise and escorted him inside the cell. Bettino gave him one last glare as he entered.

Well, technically, it wasn’t _a_ cell. Renato’s reception chamber was converted from three cells, and even the cells surrounding them had been converted into storage, or guard rooms, or in one case, a full kitchen. The reception room itself had carpets hung on three walls, stands for artifacts and curios, and of course lavish furniture for Renato, his hangers-on, and whatever food or snacks occupied them. Renato himself sat on a spiky, high-backed golden chair that might help to explain his temperament. His guests - three, all elves - lounged on couches.

“Marco, was it?” Renato’s oily words seeped into his ear, that manic smile slipping from his face the instant the elf let go of it. “You’ve had some good fortune, I see.”

_I could’ve gone my whole life not talking to Renato and not had any complaints. Instead, he’s summoning me for routine meetings._ “Yes, I have. Thank you, Renato.” Marco stayed standing. He hadn’t kneeled last time, and he’d lived.

“In six weeks, you procured five swords for me. Yesterday, you found two more. Do I have that right?”

“Yes, mister Renato.” Marco gave the briefest incline of his head.

“Why couldn’t you do that earlier?”

That being the tricky part.

If he said he was motivated, Renato would ask why their initial contract didn’t motivate him. If he said he took risks, Renato would ask if those risks would compromise him. If he said he got lucky, that would make him more liability than asset.

“I spent a lot of money.”

Renato stood up, stepped forward, and placed his hand on Marco’s shoulder. Marco flinched. _I knew I should’ve waited. One day? Two swords in one day?_

Then Renato laughed, and his sycophants too. “Well done, goblin. Another six in six, then? Same rate.”

“M—” Marco stopped himself. “Renato. It’ll be impossible for me to steal any swords this month. Not with the guards so worked up.”

“Nonsense. It’ll be even easier.” The elf smiled down on him, and the hand on his shoulder tightened its grip. “They’re all running around like worms. This is the time for growth.”

Marco’s lips were dry. He wondered how disrespectful it would be to lick them.

“A ten percent bonus on your next contract.” He nodded to the whipspine. “Tell Bettino.”

And like that, Marco was dismissed. The whipspine - he was pretty sure it was Giuliana, Giulietta had better teeth - ushered him towards the exit door in the back. She swung it shut behind him, and the outside had no handle.

He’d made it. Certainly, taking another contract with Renato was wrong, but that being the only problem to arise from the meeting was almost a blessing. It might impact his freedom of movement, especially with regards to Ilaria, but... who knows what she’d be up to in six weeks? Even if she stayed loyal and did what she promised, well, she never promised to be here in six weeks, let along six months. A goblin’s gotta make his own way.

“...Block H.” A voice drifted into Marco’s ears. It came from the grate in the cell door behind him. What was Renato doing with block H?

Enough. This wasn’t Marco’s role and it certainly wasn’t worth his neck to find out. He wasn’t from block H, didn’t go anywhere near H, and as long as the rest of Proteus had food, didn’t care one pebble about H at all.

“Both found this morning,” the voice continued. “We’ll need new border monitors. They had two more shifts together this week.”

Marco hadn’t moved since Giuliana shoved him through the door. He wasn’t anywhere he wasn’t supposed to be, not really. He was, in fact, in the _exact_ location he was last put. That was the opposite of blameworthy. Commendable! It wasn’t his fault that someone - sounded like an elf, either Bettino or one of the ones on the couch - spoke so loud.

Yet Marco had no problem making out Renato’s response. “Did we find their swords?”

Two dead underlings. No swords. Would Renato mistakenly think that Marco had recycled his dead minion’s belongings?

Worse, would Renato _correctly_ think it?

“Hey! Goblin.”

Marco started. Coming around the nearest corner was Bettino, who evidently was _not_ the person giving Renato a report inside the room. Marco would’ve frozen in response, but he was already standing still. This was bad. This was quite bad.

Bettino cleared the distance in four strides, grabbed Marco’s right arm, and twisted it behind his back. Marco stood on his toes and strained to keep in one piece. Behind him, inside the cell, the conversation continued but he lost track of the words. “And here I thought you were a roach, not a rat.” 

“Of course, Bettino. I was just heading out. If you’d allow me?” 

Bettino didn’t respond. He marched Marco back around to the front, or tried to, but Marco couldn’t walk at all due to the height difference: His body was almost entirely supported by his twisted arm, turning him to the side. Bettino frowned, then finally lifted the goblin up with an arm around his torso. Marco was now sideways, pinned to the elf’s chest. “Bettino. I’m a businessman. You’re a businessman. Just put me down and let’s talk.”

Of course, Bettino was there when the whipspine frisked Marco, so he wouldn’t fear a weapon. And Bettino was plenty strong enough for a goblin, meaning...

Bettino fell over onto Marco, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Mister Bettino?” Marco squeezed out. He craned his neck around. Why did he feel...

Blood dripped from Bettino’s open mouth onto Marco’s sleeve, while the elf’s sightless eyes stared into the stone-tiled ground. 

Marco knew better than to make a sound. He wriggled from the elf’s loosened grip and crawled to freedom. Righting himself revealed Ilaria, face schooled to boredom, picking dirt from under a nail with a faintly glowing runed dagger. Marco recalled his first impression: Tempting, like the urge to touch a flame. She’d _really_ done it now.

Unless, of course, she’d already really done it last night. 

“I’m on a tight schedule, Marco, and Renato’s not my focus. Please try not to get tortured to death, OK?”

The first words that came to Marco’s mind. “Why are you here?”

“You’re my partner.” She gave him a shallow smile. “Can’t have my partner killed for spying, even if I didn’t need it.” Her smile vanished. “I don’t, by the way. I know who died last night.”

“I...” How could Marco even respond to that? “...Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Your cell, two hours. Don’t forget!” She gave him a wave and disappeared around a corner. Marco was sure that if he followed, the hall would be empty. The woman didn’t seem to make a sound, and that was a _goblin’s_ ears listening. It was like she was only visible when she remembered it was polite.

His brain coalesced into three thoughts. First, that Ilaria was absolutely capable of bringing all of Proteus down. Second, she didn’t care whose life she put at risk. Marco was in it for real, and there was no way out.

He turned around and headed for an abandoned cross-hall where he could ditch his bloody cloak.

  
Marco’s final thought: He was damn lucky he was on _her_ side.


End file.
